


The nature of our souls

by KendraPendragon



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, PWP, Sherlock Special, Sherlolly - Freeform, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 12:09:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5626075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KendraPendragon/pseuds/KendraPendragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SPOILERS! Stop reading now if you haven't seen the special yet!<br/>I guess this is mostly PWP. If the Victorian world had been real, this might have happened. The moment Molly stops hiding is the moment they give in to their impulses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The nature of our souls

**Author's Note:**

> Forgive this PWP. I just loved the tension between Hooper and Holmes. Strong, confident, bossy Molly is absolutely sexy. Sherlock clearly thinks so.  
> A bit of this has been inspired by holnnes over at tumblr. She has drawn a fantastic pic of Hooper getting ready to punch Holmes in the face and I just had to enclose this. 
> 
> Hope you can enjoy this. Don't know if it's any good. Lemme know. :)

„Out of my morgue!“

Hooper and Holmes glared at each other for almost a minute. Anderson and Watson exchanged glances, thinking the same: The air between Holmes and Hooper was laden with electricity. They had been arguing and fighting for the past five hours. The late Mr Whiggs was lying on the slab, cut open, organs resting on the table next to him. Holmes had corrected literally every one of Hooper's moves and even Watson had to admit his friend had crossed the line – several lines - this time. And now Hooper stood proud and strong, her trembling finger still pointing at the door.   
If Watson didn't know any better, he'd say it was sexual tension. A _lot_ of sexual tension. But Holmes was oblivious to Hooper's true gender, so that was out of the question.

Another uncomfortable moment passed and Watson thought Hooper was about to throw blood soiled organs at Holmes' head when the familiar bark shook him out of his frozen state.

“Let's move, Watson. Maybe next time Hooper will have learnt how to properly do an autopsy .”

When Holmes slammed the door shut behind them, they heard a frustrated outcry on the other side. Watson noticed the crooked smile on his friend's face as they stepped out onto the street.

“Was that really necessary?”

“Yes, Watson. Yes, it was.”

Watson only shook his head.

 

~oOo~

 

Molly Hooper - known to the world as _Charles_ Hooper – threw the door to her small but cosy flat shut. Her entire body was trembling with anger, still she managed to hang her bowler and her coat before she took off her suit jacket.

“That bloody arrogant git”, she mumbled through her teeth and loosened her cravat. Then she took a deep breath, her anger almost overwhelming her.

She had worked so hard. Had given up everything in order to be able to do what she loved. She was bloody brilliant at it and this man - this a _mateur! -_ was trying to tell her how to do her work!

For a moment she stood there, hands balled into fists, thinking.

 

_No._

 

No, she wouldn't let him get away with this. No man would patronise her. She had come too far for this.

Throwing on her clothes again she stormed out of her flat.

 

Her destination was 221b Baker Street.

 

~oOo~

 

“Holmes!” she barked as she entered his poorly lit living room.

“I want to-, no I _will_ have a word with you! You will not speak to me in that tone ever again if you ever want to visit into my morgue again! I don't give a damn what Lestrade says and the threats of your brother leave me cold! I'm not afraid of either of you!” Molly bellowed through the room looking around, bowler hat in hand.

“Nor should you be.”

She flinched when his deep voice sounded right behind her. Holmes walked past her into the living room, the suit he had worn before now covered with a red morning gown, and sat down in his chair.

When he placed his big hands on the arm rests and crossed his legs he calmly looked up at her.

Molly's jaw clenched.

“You will never speak to me like this in front of my staff again. Is that clear?”

His blue-green eyes only looked at her, his face expressionless.

“Holmes!”

He blinked.

“Hooper.”

A shudder run through her. She frowned. That tone in his voice was unfamiliar, strange...unsettling.

“Stop mocking me” she hissed angrily, assuming he was still trying to belittle her.

“I am brilliant at what I do and you know it, Holmes. If you want to come back to my morgue you will treat me with respect, is that understood?!”

She was standing in front of him now, pointing her bowler at him.

“That hat doesn't suit you. You should throw it out.”

Molly inhaled, her nostrils flared.

“That's it”, she barked and tossed her hat into the empty chair across from Holmes. He watched her shrugging off her coat and suit jacket. When she began rolling up the white sleeves of her shirt, he raised an eyebrow.

“Seriously?” came his dry comment.

“Yes”, Molly said through gritted teeth and began rolling up the other. “This has gone on long enough. We will deal with this like gentlemen. Get up!”

Holmes rolled his eyes and in one elegant movement pushed himself out of his chair. Molly lifted her fists as he moved closer. With his hands on his back he stood in front of her. Molly blinked.

“Lift your arms, man.”

“Have you actually been in a fist fight before, Hooper?”

She only clenched her jaw.

“Thought so”, Holmes commented dryly.

“Your elbows are too far away from your body, your stance is too wide and you clench your fists too ha-”

Holmes ducked the punched she threw at him.

“This is ridic-”

Another one.

“Hooper!”

One more.

“Oh for God's sake!”

Molly gasped when he suddenly rushed forward and pinned her against the wall, her wrists in a tight grip. She glared at him. It vanished when his face came so close she could feel his breath on her skin. An unwelcome shudder ran down her spine.

“This is not why I asked you to come.”

His growl set her skin on fire.

No, no, no. She didn't want to feel this! Not now. Not for him!

“You didn't ask me to come, you bastard. I came here to settle things between us.”

“That's exactly what I called you for.”

“You didn't-”

The words died in her throat when he lifted her arms above her head and locked both her wrists inside one big hand. She tried to pry it open, but his fingers only tightened their grasp.

“This has gone on long enough now.”

His voice had turned raspy and his breath was hot on her skin.

“Watson was right. I am a man with...impulses.”

Molly froze.

“Your eyes are haunting me. I find myself unable to think of anything else these last couple of weeks, ever since that bloody talk in that bloody greenhouse.”

She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

“I tried to push you away, made you despise me...all these years I tried to not let it come to this. I respect your wishes...”

Her heart was pounding in her chest, she was panting. His scent filled her nose and his eyes burned her.

No, he didn't know. Watson said so, too. He didn't know.

“If you want to remain a man, tell me to let you go. Now.”

A gasp fell from her lips and she looked down. His mouth so close. His heat surrounding her, trapping her. Molly opened her mouth to speak. Nothing came out. Her body was trembling, but not with anger anymore.

God, it's been so long since she had felt this way. Her head was Spinning. She couldn't think.

“Or let me make you feel like a woman again...and help me feel like a man. Both of us have denied nature for too long...Molly.”

Her eyes fluttered shut. It's been so long, she thought, a knot forming in her throat. She hadn't heard her given name in such a long time. And coming from his lips, in this unique voice, it sounded divine.

“Share this with me. Three days, indulging in our nature. You and me. No Holmes, no Hooper. Just...Sherlock and Molly.”

Her bottom lip quivered. Her heart was aching. Something inside her wakened. Suddenly she felt her breasts hurting beneath the tight bindings, felt heat pool in her sex.

Woman.

She was a woman.

She hadn't been one in so long...she had nearly forgotten.

Desperately she tried to process what was happening. Holmes had known all along. He had felt attracted to her, even in her disguise. He had been nasty to her on purpose so she wouldn't notice and wouldn't be tempted to feel the same...

His fingertips on her skin made her eyes fly open. Acting on reflex she turned her head away.

_Never let anyone touch your face! Be careful with your moustache!_

Their eyes locked.

Holmes...

...Sherlock...

  
When he let go of her wrists, her hands landed on his upper arms. Her fingers clawed into the soft cotton of his morning gown.

This time when he reached for her fake moustache she didn't turn her head away . With every bit that was carefully removed, she felt more exposed, more vulnerable. Slowly he peeled off her mask and she was scared.

When it was gone he peeled off her sideburns next. Every time his fingers touched her skin another shiver ran up her spine. She hadn't been touched in so long it almost hurt. Tears welled up in her eyes. Yearning overcame her, so strong and forceful. She wanted to be held, to be kissed and touched; wanted to be herself again, wanted to trust someone enough to share her secret...

When the tear escaped her lashes, Holmes' thumb caught it on her cheek.

“Swear to God you won't tell anyone”, she whispered, looking deeply into his eyes.  
After years of working with him she knew when he was lying. She was an excellent observant, had to be due to her profession.

“I don't believe in God”, he replied lowly.

When his fingers wandered underneath her wig she gasped, fighting the urge to push him away. The reflexes she had developed throughout the years were so hard to fight down.

“The-Then swear on Watson's life.”

Their eyes met again. His mouth twitched into a smile.

“I swear. Your secret is safe with me, Molly Hooper.”

Something in his eyes made her believe him.

 

For a brief moment she wondered how it had come to this. She had despised him. He had always been so rude and arrogant...But she had always been attracted to him. On those rare occasions he had smiled an honest smile at her...it had sent butterflies dancing through her belly. Sherlock Holmes was without a doubt the most beautiful and attractive man she had ever seen...

More heat pooled between her legs when she dared to let her hands roam his arms and shoulders before her hands came to a rest on his chest. The muscles beneath the fabric were firm and well defined. His chest was heaving. When she looked up at him his eyes were burning and his beautiful lips were slightly parted.

Molly had never seen him without the mask of arrogance. God, he was even more beautiful now.

He wanted her. The desire was clearly written in his eyes.

To be with a man again...with him...no masks, no secrets. Just a man and a woman worshipping their nature...Could she dare such a thing?

A raspy breath landed hotly on her lips. The muscles underneath her small hands bulged.

Their eyes locked again.

Molly made a reckless decision...

 

With a sound of desperation she roughly pulled him to her. Her lips clashed against his.

Sherlock's surprised groan reverberated on her mouth. Then his lips pushed back.   
Those beautiful, clever fingers removed the pins and her wig blindly.

Molly moaned when she felt her hair being freed and falling down onto her back. Instantly his hands were in it, weaving through it, grasping it when he opened his mouth.

Her knees weakened when their tongues met. But Sherlock was there to catch her, wrapped his strong arms around her and pulled her flush against him.

 

Another tear rolled down her cheek when she gave herself to him. Giving up control, not having to be constantly on guard for a change; Molly felt a weight being lifted off her shoulders and she slung her arms around his neck to hold on to him.

She didn't have to be strong now.

She was free.

 

Minutes passed with them just kissing, hungrily, passionately, then almost tenderly, only to get desperate again.

“Undress me”, Molly breathed impatiently against his lips when she couldn't bear it anymore.

She had to get out of these clothes. Usually they were her shield, her costume, her mask. But now they only felt wrong. The fabric too scratchy, too heavy, too warm. She wanted him to tear them off her body. She wanted those bindings being cut off.  
Naked. She wanted to be naked and free and...just woman.

 

They worked simultaneously, both their fingers fast and efficient.

“I now see the advantage of a woman dressing up in men's clothes”, Sherlock couldn't help but comment, “you surely know how to get them off.”

She giggled, the same funny thought having crossed her mind just a second ago.

To her surprise Sherlock's fingers stilled. Her eyes darted up. He was looking at her so intensely her fingers stopped, as well. Just before she could inquire what the matter was he crushed his mouth to hers again.

That man could kiss, Lord help her.

When he finally released her, her head was spinning.

 

Growing more and more impatient they peeled each other out of their clothes. When it came to Molly's bindings her heart beat even faster. She kept her eyes on his face while he carefully removed the Cloth, rolling it around her body, gathering it up with his elegant hand.

He was calm and concentrated.

Molly was beyond nervous. All of a sudden she felt insecure again.

Those aspects of her femininity had been hidden for so long; she almost felt ashamed of them. So often had she wished for them to not be there.

The last round, then a fresh breeze dancing over her now exposed breasts. Her breath got stuck in her throat. Her arms fell down to her sides.

With her heartbeat drumming in her ears she waited for his reaction. For a split second she thought this had all been a trap, that he had only wanted to shame and ridicule her.

But then he gulped, eyes glued to her breasts, and his voice was husky when he spoke.  
“Are you in pain or can I...can I...”

He bit his bottom lip and she shivered. All her fears were washed away. She felt beautiful. Her breasts were beautiful.

“I'm fine.”

Sherlock's eyes fluttered close for a second and he leaned forward, his nose and lips brushing over her cheek.

 

A second later his hands were on her. Molly gasped and closed her eyes, the sensation overwhelming. Sherlock moaned and buried his head in her neck, kissing and nibbling at her skin while his hands massaged her breasts oh so exquisitely.

His curiously exploring fingers put her to pieces.

She was leaning back against the wall, arms lifted, the left index finger between her teeth to stifle her moans. The tapestry felt rough and cold on her back and arms while his hands felt so pleasantly hot and soft.

A husky moan fell from his lips when he rolled both her nipples between his fingertips.

Molly bit her finger so hard she almost broke skin.

He was panting into her ear and squeezed her breasts firmly. Molly loved it.

She met his tongue eagerly when it brushed over her bottom lip. Her entire body was vibrating with lust. It melted her hesitance away and woke her own natural curiosity.

 

Sherlock's skin was unbelievably smooth. Her fingers ghosted over his broad shoulders, his shoulder blades, followed the narrow ghyll of this spine all the way down. They wanted to go further, but the thought of cupping his backside felt so obscene to her, especially now while they were still standing in his living room. Maybe she would dare to do so later, when he was on top of her, thrusting into her...

God, the mere thought almost made her reach her climax.

Shyly her hands returned to his shoulders the same way they had come. Instead, her fingertips glided over his collar bones, the little hollow between them and southward.

Oh, his chest was heaven. Sherlock Holmes must have been carved by the Gods themselves. His bone structure, the defined muscles...perfection.

Mimicking his previous action she rolled his nipples between her fingers; and was surprised by his intense reaction.

A deep groan escaped his throat and his entire body shuddered. Obviously surprised himself he pressed his hands against the wall next to her for support.

Their eyes met and she couldn't help the cheeky smile that spread on her lips. Her fingers rolled again and he gasped.

“You think you are so clever”, he whispered hoarsely, moving closer until her hands where trapped between their chests.

“I am clever. The human body is my field of expertise, Holmes”, she shot back.

Any other time he wouldn't have missed the chance to disagree with her. Molly definitely expected it. But his eyes turned soft and his arms wrapped around her.  
“Sherlock.”

It was as much command as it was plead and Molly's heart ached. Somewhere in the far back of her mind she realized she was entering dangerous waters. Tenderness could do fatal damage to a person's heart.

But his strong warm body against her skin made her ignore her own warning and she let her hands wander into his hair. He wasn't wearing pomade, she noticed. So he really had planned this, had been nasty to her on purpose so she would come here to punch him in the face. What an elaborate - and idiotic - plan.

His ocean eyes were still pleading. With a soft smile she wove her fingers through his hair.

“Sherlock”, she called him softly.

His eyes sparkled.

“Molly”, he whispered against her lips before he kissed her again, deep and tenderly.

  
A minute later Molly was lifted off her feet and Sherlock finally carried her into his bedroom. His four poster bed was impressive and, as she would find out within the next hours, very comfortable.

Sherlock put her down in front of it and slowly began kissing his way down her body.

Molly let out little whimpers as his mouth travelled southwards.

To feel those soft lips and the hot tongue on her skin was beyond compare. Goose bumps spread all over her body and when he claimed her left nipple, she let out a high-pitched moan. Her knees felt so weak she had to grasp his shoulders.

The wet tip of his tongue circled around her pebbled nipple.

Molly moaned.

Curiosity getting the better of her she forced her eyes open. She just had to look at him. And Lord, what an enticing view it was. The red, wet tongue gliding over her Skin. His full lips clasped around her nipple. The little sounds he made when he sucked it. This blissful expression on his face...

It was all so beautiful. And the sensations were overwhelming. It had been many, many years since she had felt so wonderful, so in touch with her body, with her femininity.

Body and soul became one.

Molly felt whole again.

And she had to thank him for that.

This beautiful, highly intelligent man who was worshipping her breasts oh so tenderly and oh so thoroughly her nipples became more and more sensitive.

Her impatience growing, she lightly pulled at his hair.

There was a knot, an ache low in her abdomen and it demanded his attention.

Sherlock went down onto his knees. Cheekily he dipped his tongue into her navel, causing her to twitch and giggle.

He grinned up at her. It blinded her.   
The man kneeling in front of her was so different from the stiff man she knew from the morgue. He was attentive and tender and playful. She liked this man. In the furthest corners of her mind she knew she could fall for him.

Both her hands were stroking his hair and she held eye contact while while he opened the buttons on her trousers.

Molly wasn't nervous anymore. She wasn't shy or insecure when he pulled them down, dragging her linen drawers along. She didn't mind him looking at her dark triangle as she stepped out of her shoes and the rest of her clothes and when it was all gone, she didn't feel insecure at all.

It was the way he looked at her, the way his fingers trembled as they glided up her thighs which made her feel too beautiful to be shy.

Sherlock breathed her name and pressed his face against her most intimate place.

Molly let out a surprised little gasp. Smiling, she looked down and brushed her fingers through his silken hair.

She felt his hot breath against her womanhood, felt him inhale deeply – it was the most erotic thing she had ever experienced.

Molly flinched when he pressed a kiss on her mound. Then he rose and the fire burning in his eyes gave away how very aroused he was. It sent another shiver down her spine.

Somehow his lust made her feel...powerful. And she had never felt powerful as a woman before.

 

When Sherlock reached for his own buttons, Molly stopped him. His eyes darted up to hers and she held his gaze whilst her fingers opened the buttons for him. Biting her bottom lip she snaked one hand inside. Sherlock's breath got caught in his throat.

The skin of his abdomen was hot and smooth. Then rough, curly hairs. And then...

Sherlock groaned and his eyelids fluttered close.

Watching the emotions and sensations flash over his unguarded face, Molly took his hot, hard manhood in her hand. He was long and thick and she shivered at the thought of it being inside her.

Curiously she explored, wasn't shy to cup his testicles, causing another groan from her consulting detective.

“Oh God”, he whispered desperately when she began stroking him.

“I thought you didn't believe in God”, Molly couldn't help but comment.

His eyes opened again; they had the colour of a thunderstorm now.

“It's just an expression”, he pressed through gritted teeth, his voice thin.

She hadn't stopped gliding up and down his length.

“Is that so? Maybe after the three days you promised me I will have changed your mind...Sherlock.”

With a hiss he grabbed her wrist to still her movements.  
“God, Molly. If you keep doing this...”

He pulled her hand out of his trousers. With his eyes closed Sherlock kissed every finger and her palm.

Then he gently pushed her down onto the bed.

Feeling more confident and in control than ever she lay down, arms above her head, her long hazelnut hair spread on the deep blue bed spread. She couldn't help but writhe while he hastily took off the rest of his clothes. Unfortunately, Molly only got a glance of his fully erect manhood before he joined her and covered her body with his.

Oh, to feel his weight on top of her, to feel his bare skin on her own – incredible.

Willingly she spread her legs for him; his answer was a moan into her mouth. While he kissed her hungrily his hand glided between their bodies. It was her turn to moan when his fingers touched her sex.

“God, you're so wet, Molly...you're so wet for me...”, he panted into her mouth, his tongue snaking around hers.

Lord help her, she was. She was so wet, obscene sounds filled the room as Sherlock's fingers explored.

Molly moaned loudly when he pushed one finger into her, then another. Desperately she clung to him while he slowly moved them in and out of her, stretching her, preparing her.

“Sherlock! Sherlock, please!”

She couldn't stand this for long. She needed him. Now!

With a husky groan he obliged.

Both of them moaned when he slowly pushed into her.

When he was inside her to the hilt Molly quivered. Nibbling on his full bottom lip she pulled her legs to her body.

Oh, his length was heaven, she felt so heavenly full and stretched. And when he began to move, Molly forgot when and where she was. She clung to her beautiful lover as much as he clung to her, his head buried in her neck, his hot breath and tongue on her skin.

She offered him everything and he took it and together they were one. Complete. Whole.

Time meant nothing.

The world was irrelevant.

All that counted were them; together.

 

He whispered her name against her sensitive skin like a prayer.

His big hand curled around her breast and his thumb teased her nipple.

His mouth caressed her throat and jaw before it claimed her lips.

Molly's hands were fisted in his hair while their tongues where stroking each other.

Her legs were bouncing to the rhythm of his thrusts. So deep. Tormentingly slow. Then heavenly fast.

It was only a few minutes before she died the little death, but that death felt like eternity.

He joined her not long afterwards and they held on to each other, falling into the bottomless abyss together.

 

~oOo~

 

Panting hard, Sherlock carefully rolled off of her. He looked at her smiling face, her eyes closed. His eyes still hungry, they roamed her body.

She was beautiful. So beautiful.

There was no sign of Charles Hooper left.

She was all woman.

She was divine.

Just as this thought echoed from the walls of his mind she opened her eyes and looked at him.

Those big brown eyes.

They were his undoing.

He adored them. And that adorable nose. And that mouth. Her marvellous breasts. The round little navel. The thick dark triangle. The tight, wet tunnel it was hiding.

Unable to not do it, he leaned over her and kissed her. He was still so hungry for her. And when she slung her arms around her, he knew she felt the same way.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
